


Box of Photos

by danvssomethingorother



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, request fic, slight spoilers to season seven finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:18:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvssomethingorother/pseuds/danvssomethingorother
Summary: Brock finds Rusty up at three in the morning with a box of memories.





	Box of Photos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyofdecember](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/gifts).



> Original Request:   
> Rusty and Brock at the penthouse at 3am... sfw? 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

When the twins had been babies when Brock heard Rusty pacing through the halls of the compound getting him up pounding shit around, it had been acceptable. He was a young father with screaming infants, of course he was up this early. 

Today, he was nearing fifty and his children had left home, but he was still up at three in the morning sitting on the couch, drink in hand and an old box of photos Brock hadn’t seen in years opened. 

The TV was on, but it seemed to have been muted, so Brock couldn’t use that as the excuse he was up right now to see Rusty in this state. It had just become a sixth sense, he always just knew when he was in danger and sadly protecting Rusty always entailed protecting him from himself.

He was swishing the glass of liquor in one hand and in the other hand holding a baby picture of Hank and Dean gently running his finger across the bent side of the banged-up polaroid. The picture had been tore up and taped back together so many times the image was barely recognizable anymore but it was still somehow intact. 

Brock leaned over the couch and took the photo from him, staring at it a moment himself before tossing it back in the box filled with photos of the twins from when they were younger. After the sixth death of the boys and the first suicide attempt from Doc, every single photo that reminded him there had been happier times with his children had been locked up tight and stored away. The box only came down at times like this when Doc was feeling his lowest and he became a danger to himself.

“Go back to bed, Brock,” Doc commanded but there was no real bite to the command like there usually was, it was hollow.

“I could tell you the same, Doc.”

Rusty shook his head taking a long drink before turning the volume back on the TV, an infomercial was playing.

“Do you remember when I designed that?” he finally said tilting his head towards the magic chopper on the screen.

“Yeah I remember when you just shilled out get rich quick crap that barely worked,” Brock said making the bold decision to sit next to Rusty and the bolder decision to put his arm around him not too shocked to see him snuggle close to him.

“Well that one isn’t exactly mine, a knock off because mine was ‘unsafe’, it’s a chopping thing, it’s supposed to be unsafe.”

“You used the sharpest metal you could find and cheap plastic, it took your own finger off,” Brock grumbled, tightening his hold around the man as he rested his head against his shoulder.

“I reattached it, it was fine but no no, the FCC would not hear it and refused to let me mass produce it and now look someone else stole my design and is rich.”

“Well it worked out fine,” Brock said but that dark crossed Rusty’s face again as he shook his head and sighed loudly, cuddling closer to Brock.

“Sure, it might look like it did but I’m not any different, am I?” 

Brock didn’t answer that, that was entering dangerous territory. Rusty’s head was in a dark place right now, he could tell. He watched him pull the box of pictures closer to him and pull a stack out, snuggling closer to Brock, just staring at the burned edges around a picture of the twins fourth birthday. It was a bright sunny day, Helper putting a large Cake in Front of Hank and Dean who were smiling brightly standing on top of their chairs. Rusty was standing behind Dean gently holding his sides afraid he would fall the way he had been bouncing on the chair, Brock was frowning at him being so protective behind Hank letting him jump all he wanted.

Pete had taken the picture if Brock remembered. 

“I didn’t even know Hank was in the hospital and now he’s gone,” he finally mumbled running his finger across the photo.

“He will come back,” Brock started but Rusty shook his head flipping to another photo in the large stack he had grabbed.

It was Hank at six wearing his first Batman costume, there was blood stains on the side of this photo, Brock cringed remembering the time Rusty had thrown a tantrum breaking the glass from these old photos the first time he had tried to destroy them. He had cut himself on the glass from the frames and stained a few of the photos when he tried to rip them up.

This must have been one Brock had yanked from him from the tiny tear at the top and blood stains.

“Its for the best, he’s better without me,” he mumbled staring at the magic chopper cutting up some vegetables.

Brock didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing, pulling Rusty closer to him and kissing him on the top of the head.

There was nothing he could do once Rusty entered one of his darker moods, he just need to stay close to him to pull him from the darkness as best as he could before he let it consume him.


End file.
